


Don't Leave

by sky_voice



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Rick comes to realisations, Rick comforts the reader after she's had a bit too much to drink, Soft words are exchanged and the reader feels safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_voice/pseuds/sky_voice
Summary: The reader is racked with inner turmoil and copes with it by drinking her sorrows away and telling herself she's happy when she's not. Despite being an alcoholic himself, Rick doesn't like this and makes an attempt to ease at least some of her pain. As the night comes to an end, he makes a final decision to be there for the reader whenever she needs him.





	Don't Leave

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this while very drunk myself, one night. Some shameless self insertion never hurt anyone, right? The thought of the smartest man in the universe comforting you after you've had too much to drink is definitely a soothing one.

He quietly walks down the hallway and sticks his head through the doorway to check on you, just as you’re taking your next swig of bourbon.

It doesn’t particularly sit well with him. He can hold his own, of course, but you’re a completely different story. He knows how much of an effect alcohol has on you, and it’s never pretty.

“H-hey, you – you alright? How much of that have you had to drink?” He asks in an uncharacteristically gentle voice; his brow curved upward in worry.

You let out a loud giggle in response, lurching forward and leaning your elbows on your knees, shaking your head repeatedly. “Y-you’re worrying about me too much. Just let me have some fun, huh?”

This doesn’t seem to ease his worry. If anything, it just makes him more intent on stealing that bottle away from you – not so that he could have it to himself, but so that you didn’t have access to it anymore.

“I-I don’t really like this, y'know – I can see how much you’ve drunk from that thing. M-maybe you should give it up for the night. I c-can grab a bottle of water for–”

“Hnnng R-Rick,” you nearly hiccup his name, glancing over at him, but nearly falling over on your side in the process, “Th-that won’t really be nec’ss'ry.” You have to try a few times to speak the words coherently. You’re not very good at this at all; your tolerance for this shit is next to nothing.

Now it’s kind of scaring him.

“Alright, seriously, that’s enough,” he speaks lowly as he tears into your room and reaches for the bottle, grabbing the base  of it and ripping it out of your hands. He also doesn’t enjoy the sudden sadness that seeps into your expression the moment he does this.

“I-I wasn’t hurting anybody…” you speak quietly as your bottom lip begins to tremble. Seriously, you and alcohol do not mix whatsoever. It puts your mind in such a vulnerable state that every little thing sets you off.

“…” He sighs with frustration and sets the bottle down on the floor beside the bed, but then decides to sit next to you, making sure to not make physical contact with you – although the thought of putting his arm around your small frame does cross his mind. It’s just that instinct he has every time. The instinct to protect such innocence.

“I know you weren’t, but that stuff is hurting _you_ ,” he tries to calmly explain to you – a slight note of irritation in his voice, but for your sake, he tries very hard to maintain an air of sincerity. He knows how fragile you are when you get like this.

Your gaze draws towards him, your eyes wide, and tears pricking the corners of both. “I’m happiest when I’m like this… I can’t feel anything, I can’t… it’s better this way, I…” you try to explain, but you’re too woozy to accurately articulate yourself. The room spins and you want to vomit, but you keep yourself together so you don’t make a fool of yourself.

Rick, however, can see it in your face.

“If you’re going to be sick, I can walk you to the bathroom. Highly doubt you can make it yourself,” he groans, gritting his teeth together and looking away for a moment. He honestly can’t believe this is happening. He’s allowing himself to comfort you. “Jeez, kid, y-you really can’t hold your liquor, huh?” Red flags go off in his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he should – he can’t leave you like this. Still, in his mind, he’s letting his guard down. He can’t do this. He just can’t.

He looks as if he’s about to reach a hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but then he stops himself, deciding not to go that far. “Water. You need water. C-can you stay awake for two minutes?” Fuck it. Fuck it all to hell and back.

Once he sees you nod slowly, he quietly gets up from his spot and walks to the kitchen, being careful not to make too much noise so that you don’t get spooked in your drunken stupor – something he’s actually witnessed before. While he finds it humorous, it ultimately isn’t something he enjoys seeing. You’re a single woman living on your own, after all – even men like Rick have their limits when it comes to comedy.

Two minutes pass, and he’s back in your room, a glass of water in his hands. “Couldn’t find the bottles. I-I know you hate tap water, but you don’t have many options at the moment. D-drink this,” he murmurs as he sits back down next to you, handing you the cup of water.

The thought of drinking lukewarm tap water was almost enough to make you hurl right then and there, but you still did everything in your power not to throw up. You couldn’t do that in front of Rick – it’d haunt you for the rest of your life. Instead, you gratefully took the glass and began to drink the liquid slowly, being sure to hold your breath so you didn’t have to taste the slight metallic taste of the tap water. You did this until you’ve drunk half of the glass, then finally took your lips away to take a breath, your eyelids drooping almost all the way.

“This is so gross… b-but thank you, Rick,” you breathe out quietly, almost positive that he was about to scoff irritably at your mindless show of gratitude for such a basic necessity. Despite this, however, his reaction is not at all what you expected.

“I want you to keep sipping that until it’s all gone, okay? Then I’m g-gonna get some more,” He nearly whispers as he finally, _finally_  reaches a hand out and touches the back of your head, bringing his hand down to stroke the slightly tangled hair that falls loosely from your head. You’re usually so well groomed, he can’t help but notice how disheveled your hair is at the moment. Something he finds both alluring and alarming.

He does this once more before he scoots just an inch or two closer to you, seemingly scared of making you uncomfortable, but wanting to make sure you don’t vomit or pass out suddenly. “But just drink what you think you can take for now. And a-absolutely _no_  more alcohol – th-that shit is poison and you’ve had enough for one evening.”

Before you can protest, he stands to his feet once more and takes the bottle into his hands, gripping it tightly and walking towards the door again. “Stay with me, d-don’t fall asleep. I mean it.” And before you can process it, he’s out the door again.

You nearly panic and set the glass of water aside loudly, splaying out on your bed and burying your face in your pillow. You begin to cry aimlessly, tears spilling out of your eyes. In your hazy mind, you’ve been abandoned, left alone to deal with your own demons and feelings once again. You deserved this, you thought to yourself – you deserved to feel nothing and everything at once. You felt like you’d come so far in life, but you knew you hadn’t really accomplished anything worthwhile. A sad song began to play in your head – the same one that always seemed to creep into your mind when you got like this. Your sobs began to wrack your body as you thought about something awful you did to someone else five years ago – something you never apologised for and just let happen.

Just as you were on the brink of unconsciousness, you felt a hand touch your back. It was soft and careful – knowing, wholesome. Unlike the awful feelings that were just consuming your entire being, it existed, and for a moment, it brought you back to reality.

You whined loudly and rolled over onto your side, only realising after the fact that you were being aided by a voice that said ‘roll over’ a few times. You breathed out audibly and forced yourself to open your eyes, looking up at a dark silhouette. The lights were suddenly off? Oh, gosh. When did that happen? But you knew who was beside you, so you weren’t afraid. You could tell by his voice – he was right there. The thought alone brought warmth to your face.

“Rick, aah…” you half-whispered as you rolled over onto your back, bringing a hand to your head. “Everything hurts.”

“Yeah, that’s the alcohol,” he let out a bitter laugh, but this only made you frown miserably in response. He cleared his throat.

“I-I brought you more water. Can you sit up? O-or at least get up on your elbows–” he spoke quietly as he came closer to you, holding an object in his hand. Oh, it was the same glass, but he had refilled it. You felt your heart swell.

“I-I’ll be much better in the morning, I promise…” you spoke quietly as you took the glass and sipped from it again. Ever so slightly, you felt yourself sobering up, but you knew, somewhere in your subconscious, that this wasn’t going to subside until well after noon the next morning.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he chuckled quietly as he sat with you in the darkness. He had turned your light out to aleviate at least one of your senses. He had also wanted to feed you something with bread in it, but he couldn’t find anything. Your kitchen didn’t have much to choose from at all. Something else about your lifestyle that unsettled him.

“R-Rick,” you gasped slightly, taking your lips away from the glass again, the glass nearly gone again. “Don’t leave me tonight? Please? Y-you’re the only one th-that…” You didn’t quite know where you were going with that statement.

“I’m not going anywhere, s-sweetheart,” he responded, his voice low again. Unusual for him. Calm and gentle. That wasn’t like him at all, and even in your current state of mind, you could tell this difference.

You shuddered happily and set the glass aside, plopping down onto your side and curling in on yourself. You sighed out gently and closed your eyes. Before falling into the deep abyss that was slumber, you felt a soft sensation all over your body. A blanket had been placed on you. Your blanket – it was a familiar feeling.

You also swore you felt a hand caress the back of your neck, fingers lacing through your locks and feeling the base of your head; a sensation that was new, but wholeheartedly welcome.


End file.
